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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29075535">Mirrormark</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiden_of_Asgard/pseuds/Maiden_of_Asgard'>Maiden_of_Asgard</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:07:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,488</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29075535</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiden_of_Asgard/pseuds/Maiden_of_Asgard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki awakes in a whirlwind of emotions, and is soon horrified to realize that only some of those emotions belong to him.</p>
<p>Part 23 of Frostbite from within the chaos of Loki’s mind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Loki (Marvel)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>145</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Flurries - The World of Frostbite</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mirrormark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The human girl, Loki muses as he wakes, makes an exceptional pillow for his weary head. He blinks and yawns, amused to discover that she seems to be holding him to her bosom. It takes a moment to extricate himself from her clutches - he isn’t ready to wake her - and when he sits up and stretches, he enjoys the peaceful tableau for exactly thirty seconds, at which point in time he remembers where he is, who he is, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> he is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His neck burns, and he massages the sore muscle as he climbs from the bed, distracted by the way she rolls towards him, occupying </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> pillow. Her hand is loosely outstretched over the edge of the bed, jutting from beneath the thick fur blankets. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Almost as if she reaches out to bring me back to her side. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Loki shakes his head, tucking her hand back under the furs. The room is cold, but his bed is warm. He has business to attend to, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn’t, so there’s no reason she shouldn’t enjoy it for as long as possible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki bends over to touch his toes, cursing the cold and the stress that have him so stiff and tired. He misses the days when his body felt lithe and virile, before the coronation, before the fall, before Midgard and Sanctuary and the Other. One wound heals, only to be replaced by another. He wonders what will come to take the place of the fading scar from Svartalfheim. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another night tangled in her embrace means another round of early-morning calisthenics in one of the courtyards is in order; he’ll do anything to cool the burning in his blood. Yes, the frigid, angry winds will certainly take all thoughts of delicious mortal women from his mind… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or make it worse, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the pessimistic part of his brain suggests. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Imagine the soft, silky heat that could consume you, if you’d only surrender. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki glares at the object of his desire, affronted by the peaceful expression on her face, which he can barely make out; she’s half-buried beneath the blankets again. She is going to leave him, one way or another. If he surrenders, he’ll risk becoming attached - and if he is </span>
  <em>
    <span>attached</span>
  </em>
  <span>, what will he do when she is gone? He’s never had a woman of his own before, not really. Bachelorhood is far preferable. Taking a mistress would only give yet another person leverage over him, and Loki has spent the last few years strategically eliminating any and all opportunities for people to have leverage over him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alone, he can be free. Alone, no one can lie to him. Alone, he’ll never be betrayed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And yet, here you stand, wasting time imagining the girl as your mistress. Yet again, I might add. Do not let the dearth of decent company deceive you; she is no goddess. She is not your peer. She is only human. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rolls his shoulders. He really does feel the cold more sharply this morning, and it’s yet another source of irritation. When things are more settled in the court, he’s going to turn his attention towards remodeling his chambers. He misses the dark, polished wood and rich tapestries of his rooms in the palace of Asgard. The fires on Jotunheim simply do not seem to provide the same level of warmth, either. Loki imagines that it is only a matter of perception, but that does not ease his discomfort. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His pet will enjoy that. Decorating his rooms will give her something useful to do. As pretty as she is curled up at his feet when he tends to court, he knows that her spirits will fade if she is given nothing else to occupy her time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yet another task that would befit a mistress, of course. You wouldn’t allow your houndskeeper or your chambermaids to choose your decor, would you?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rubs his neck again, sighing. If he had any sense, he would have gotten rid of her in the beginning. He wouldn’t have needed to lift a finger to do it. He could have left her in the cave, and she’d have perished in mere hours. Loki would have been long gone, and with any luck, he’d have forgotten all about her by now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yes, it would have been in his best interests to leave her behind. Hiding his powers within her is a handy trick, but it is hardly worth these damnable </span>
  <em>
    <span>impulses. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She is liable to betray him; he would, if he were in her place. Their alliance is one of necessity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Necessity,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and lust. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her lust is a genuine, palpable thing, and it haunts his every waking moment, along with a good portion of his dreams. Despite himself, he smiles. The girl not only lusts after him, but she is wonderfully terrible at hiding it. It isn’t his position or power that entices her; it’s his body. He can scent her arousal every time he strips off his clothing to bathe, and after several very tiring years, Loki basks in her blatant appreciation of his form. A sleepy sense of contentment warms his skin. He considers crawling back into bed. It seems so </span>
  <em>
    <span>enticing. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Last night… Last night was a mistake, certainly. That doesn’t change the fact that it was a pleasurable mistake, and—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki hisses. Fire burns beneath his fingertips, sending little shockwaves zipping through his bones. He freezes, prods at his neck for a tense moment, then freezes again, his thoughts all swallowed whole by dread. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Can’t be, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s seen the scarred teeth-marks on the necks of many of the men and women in court, some more prominent and proudly-displayed than others. When he’d heard that the mating-rites of the Jötnar involved permanently maiming the mated, he’d been filled with disdain - and curiosity, for there seemed to be more magic in the process than the giants were willing to acknowledge. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smooths his thumb over the afflicted skin, wincing when he finds a vaguely oval shape to the tender skin. </span>
  <em>
    <span>In the approximate location of where the mortal bit me. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, that cannot be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Where are the damned mirrors?</span>
  </em>
  <span> On Asgard, his reflection is everywhere he looks, shining in the polished golden columns of the palace. Perhaps it’s for the best that Jotunheim is so dissimilar; he is not so fond of his form, these days. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He conjures up a double with the wave of a hand, drawing on a tiny bit of magic stored in the girl to do so. The double is an exact replica of himself at this very moment in time, and Loki begins to truly panic. There is a scar, already healed-over and raised, almost as if it’s been there his entire life, just waiting for him to notice it. It takes something powerful to wound him, and something far more powerful to scar him, and he cannot believe, even for a moment, that the waif in his bed is responsible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, there is some trickery afoot, some malicious intent. Those witches from the coast… Could they have discovered the way he’s hidden power away in the mortal? Perhaps they mean to drain him this way, slowly and completely. Or, could it be someone from his late father’s court? The giants of Utgard know little of magic, but he doesn’t doubt that they’d go to great lengths to sabotage him. And, given that there is no chance at all that the mortal managed this alone… it </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> be sabotage. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wolf was a trap. The giants never intended to bow to his authority. They’ve weakened him, and now they’ve used his only confidante to bind him with some sort of unfamiliar magic. To </span>
  <em>
    <span>wound</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. His fists clench so tightly that his nails dig into his palms. What did they offer her? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What price did she put on betrayal?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An odd pang of fear sends a shiver through him in the same moment that the aforementioned waif sits up with a yelp. She presses herself against the back of the bed, as far away from him as she can possibly get, in what he assumes is a desperate attempt to save her own skin. Loki grits his teeth. He will allow her the chance to deny her involvement in whatever wickedness has befallen him. He will allow her one chance, and one chance only. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come here, mortal.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pads across the floor, visibly shivering. Loki’s wrath grows with each step. How </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> she? After what she has done, how </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> she toy with his emotions? How did he allow her so close? The fear that had dissipated on seeing her safe after their encounter from the Moon-Eater has returned ten-fold. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he tells himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>not fear. Anger. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His double has her dumbfounded. “What is that?” she whispers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A double,” Loki snaps. “The chamber has no mirror.” The girl continues to gawp. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She knows what she did, little wretch.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He grabs her arm and hauls her closer, intent on forcing her to confront the evidence of her sin. “Explain</span>
  <em>
    <span> this.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stares at the scar, then regards him with wide eyes, as if she finds the appearance of the damned mark just as shocking as he does. Loki almost believes her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Almost.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a… hickey?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her posture radiates tension, but her tone is light. Is she </span>
  <em>
    <span>mocking</span>
  </em>
  <span> him? “How did you manage this, girl?” he demands, and when she freezes, he shakes her. “Were you given something, hmm? Have you been caught up in some Stormr-Jötnar pranks?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Norns,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he hopes that it is only a prank. He will still have to get rid of her, but at least he will know that there was no malice in her heart. Loki knows that he is a sentimental fool for caring, but it does make a difference. His grip tightens. He has to know.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t… I don’t know,” she says. “I didn’t think I could break your skin. I mean, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> break your skin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki remains silent, waiting. He should end her. Every time he has even a </span>
  <em>
    <span>moment</span>
  </em>
  <span> of peace, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>ruins</span>
  </em>
  <span> it - but she is the reason he allowed himself to feel so peaceful in the first place. He resents her for that, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s ruined his morning. She’s ruined </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If one of the jealous giantesses vying for his attention notices that a human has staked a claim on the valuable property that is his kingly neck, his mortal is as good as dead. He may very well be as good as dead, too; Skaði’s loyalty only extends as far as her belief that she will someday be his queen. Without her, and without the support of the rest of the court… it will all be over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mortal stares at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to drag her back into bed. He wants to kiss her again, wants to mark her as his. He should’ve never put the collar on her. He’d meant it as a joke, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants </span>
  </em>
  <span>her to be his woman. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Loki’s woman. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on.” There’s desperation in her eyes, and Loki is certain that she is close to breaking, to confessing. “You’re basically made of granite! I’m a mortal, remember?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>remember—”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurting</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s like a cold shock of ice to his system. He releases her immediately, and the double fades.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s on the verge of tears. Loki feels as if he’s on the verge of tears, too, though he doesn’t entirely understand why. “There is some magic in this, but I cannot tell</span>
  <em>
    <span>... </span>
  </em>
  <span>Do you realize the effort it takes to scar me?” he asks, deciding to change course. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m freaked out, too, okay? Maybe we should ask the Völva—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No. </span>
  </em>
  <span>We are not discussing this with anyone. Norns help me, I live an accursed life.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>A sullen tear rolls down her cheek. “You really know how to make a girl feel special,</span> <span>you know that?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>Her mortification is a sickly, tangy taste in the back of his own throat. It fuels his own shame. Poor, wretched creature. If she is innocent - and how he hopes that she is! - her fear is not that of a guilty conscience. It is fear of him, fear of his anger. It is pain caused by his cruel, callous behavior. He broke the vow he’d made. He’d let himself lose control, in the heat of the moment and the dark of the night. He’d subjected her to his desire, only to terrorize her in the cold light of morning. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki pushes every shred of feeling down deep into his heart and buried them. He prays that they never resurface. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My apologies,” he says. “It is common for warriors to return from a battle seeking another outlet for their remaining bloodlust, and I should not have used you. It was irresponsible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She recoils as if he’s slapped her. “Are you—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It won’t happen again,” he says. He needs to leave. Quickly. He needs to put as much distance between them as possible, before this </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>on his neck and the old-but-new magic twining with his own overrides all common sense. He wants to take her to bed and comfort her. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants </span>
  </em>
  <span>to lick away the angry tears rolling down the hollow of her throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki hates himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her voice has a raw edge to it when she speaks. “Do you have that speech memorized or something? It might work on some random chambermaid, Loki, but it’s not gonna work on </span>
  <em>
    <span>me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Leave, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Get out now. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The anger is his, but it also </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Loki cannot trust himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am giving you the benefit of the doubt that this was not intentional,” he snaps, pointing at the bite-mark. “Do you really think it wise to test me now, mortal?” He looks down at her, waiting for her to challenge him. To his relief, she says nothing. “I will have one of the twins fetch you,” he chokes out, turning to flee the room before he drowns in her scent and the potent miasma of her feelings. “It would be best to keep your distance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Loki waits until he’s far enough down the hall that there is no chance of her hearing, and then he punches the wall with so much force that the thin sheen of ice shatters, cracking the stone beneath. His head aches, and he wishes he could scream, but there’s no time, and he’s not safe here, and neither is she. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His shoulders slump. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Neither is she. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sire?” a hesitant voice asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Startled, he turns to find Greip standing behind him. His fingers twitch, eager for a dagger. Can he trust her? Can he trust </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t answer, but her lips part in a silent gasp. Loki’s hand moves to his throat. He hopes that fabric will somehow materialize before his fingertips meet bare skin, but, as usual, Fate is not on his side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Damn. </span>
  </em>
</p>
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